


Unnamed

by sarrel



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Hallucinations, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3121127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarrel/pseuds/sarrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone's in the wrong part of their memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jenna

**Author's Note:**

> There's (kind of) an OC. They're only relevant in that an existing character ends up looking like them. Also this is the first time I've ever posted anything to the Archive and it is terrifying. Do tell me if I made formatting or tagging errors though.

Jenna couldn't remember when her head had hurt worse, but then, her memory wasn't at it's clearest. When she first tried opening her eyes, the light stabbed straight to the back of her skull and she felt like she was going to puke. She closed them and laid back down, as still and quiet as she could manage.   
  
The next attempt was more successful, and despite some difficulty, she picked her head up to look around. Nothing registered as familiar. She blinked a few times with more than a little discomfort, hoping something would come to her. It didn't. As the headache receded she inspected her surroundings. She flattened a palm against the floor and recognized the dull hum of an engine, which was impossible because she couldn't be on a ship.   
  
The federation had the most money, the most raw materials, and the best scientists. Their ships, were of course among the fastest and best built in the Galaxy. They were cramped, stuffy, dim, and featured an overabundance of grey, just like everyone else's. Jenna had always loved them anyway. Despite the small spaces, being on one, especially in charge of one, meant you could go anywhere you liked.   
  
This... well that hum was so familiar, even though it ran much too quiet to be a standard Federation engine. It had to be a ship. It was so beautiful though. The halls were wide and open, lit with a soft white light. The air was crisp, cool, and easy to breathe. She was instantly in love with it, even though she had no idea what the rest of it was even like. It was as if all the freedom and openness she always attached to spaceships had somehow actually ended up inside of one.   
  
"Jenna?"   
  
She turned around, startled, to find someone sitting behind her, and for a moment the woman was difficult to place. It had been a long time and she wasn't much up to remembering things anyway. Alda seemed rather alive for someone who had met with Federation troopers, and yet she looked just like she had the last time Jenna saw her. She was clean cut, wearing a pressed, collared shirt, and creepily inexpressive. She didn't have a useful response to her appearance, so she backed up to the wall to put some space between them. If she didn't lie to herself, she also wanted something to lean on.   
  
"How are you feeling?"   
  
Her throat was scratchy and sore, but she managed a reply anyway,"As if someone split my head open with an axe."   
  
"That does seem to be the general consensus."   
  
Now that looked nothing like her old copilot. She looked... amused, concerned, relieved, and a whole mess of other things she was never sure Alda could feel, let alone express. Between that and the fact she ought to be a pile of ash floating in space somewhere, Jenna was quickly becoming uncomfortable with the situation. If she thought she could manage standing up, she probably would have left, but as it was, she just stared.   
  
Not-Alda looked confused. "Can you-",She stood up and walked a few steps to the left, then sat down again, the whole time watching Jenna watch her. "Can you see me?"   
  
"Yes?" It was more of a question than an answer, and she immediately regretted it. She didn't want to know, she just wanted it to go away.   
  
"Oh." There was a long pause,"What do I look like?"   
  
"Uh... Someone I knew a long time ago. Copilot."   
  
"I suppose that's accurate enough." There was another long pause and she looked down at her lap, before suddenly looking off to the side, distracted,"There's interference."   
  
"Interference?"   
  
She returned her focus to Jenna, and the intensity of it made her shrink back,"We're trapped and you need to find Blake. I'll give you as many details as I can but I don't know-"   
  
And then she was just gone.


	2. Cally

Cally stopped and leaned against the shredded trunk of a tree to catch her breath, taking the moment to adjust the strap of her rifle. She shouldn't have been that tired after ten miles, but she wasn't going to stop until she caught her quarry. He'd been separated from his squad three days now. As well trained as troopers were, the Federation didn't like anyone, even it's military (especially it's military), being able to live away from the cities. Depending on how much he had in emergency rations and medical supplies, he would be all but worn through by now.   
  
And this was so much worse than wilderness. This was a wasteland. Whatever they'd put in the air had killed damn near everything. Anything bigger than a mouse was dead immediately, and the only things left now were some of the nastier plants. They'd be dead too soon, and Kenterow would be lifeless, with the notable exception of the Federation outpost. The thought of it made her sick.   
  
At this point, she was hoping the trooper was still alive. She needed just a little more intelligence for her final mission. Sometimes she wondered if she should have stayed on Auron. Maybe she could have convinced them to stand up to the Federation, maybe she could have managed to change something. Maybe, maybe, maybe. It was a moot point, she wasn't going to go back and tell them they were right.   
  
"So do you think he'll have the information you need? He might not have a high enough rank."   
  
The voice sounded so clear, and she tried her best not to notice. Acknowledging it only made it worse.   
  
"But then, he's going to say he doesn't know anything regardless, so."   
  
It walked around in front of her, mirroring her stance against the burnt shreds of a tree opposite. She heard this happened sometimes, if you were alone too long. Auronar were made to be among their own, and it was surprising enough it hadn't happened when her only company was human. She wasn't sure who this was supposed to be. Sometimes it looked a little more like one person than another. It was hard to tell under the burns.   
  
They told her this would happen, but they never told her what to do about it. Auron didn't like it's citizens leaving any more than the Federation. All she could do was remind herself it wasn't real. She pushed herself upright and  kept walking.   
  
She could hear it following, the crunch of boots, the uneven limp. It was hard not to turn and tell it to keep quiet, that she was getting close. She knew no one else could hear it, but it sounded real enough and it was making it hard to pay attention, hard to keep her mind on her prey.   
  
Finally she couldn't take it and turned to snap,"Leave me alone. I need to focus on the hunt."   
  
It paused, considering her. Then it flashed a wide grin and vanished.   
  
That had never worked before.


	3. Vila

He could hear the footsteps on concrete above him. They'd find him; they always did. It didn't matter who he paid off, how well he hid, or how fast he ran. They'd catch him and take him to a big grey building and he'd come out a week later without a clue what happened. His head would spin and hurt and a month later it would stop and he'd go back to, well, business as usual. And then they'd come and find him and take him back.

Why no officer, I wasn't hiding. I just thought the sewers were so very interesting.

He picked up a splinter of plastic and scratched at the black slime coating the concrete. He scribbled a few lines, then a box, some circles, eventually tumblers and wires and biometric scanners.

It wasn't even about what was inside, not that it wasn't usually pretty fantastic. It was a game between you and the locksmith, and you had to try and get ahead of him after he already spent quite a bit of time getting ahead of you. His mother used to tell him some old saying about idle hands getting you into trouble. She was right, of course.

It was inevitable; they'd find him. They always did and always would, but when he saw a shadow cross the storm drain overhead he flattened against the wall and closed his eyes. He should have run down the tunnel, given himself a few more minutes, but then they'd be coming for him in the dark.

What if they'd finally decided he wasn't worth fixing anymore?

He let out a slow breath as the shadow disappeared and the footsteps faded.


	4. Jenna

The obvious course of action was finding out where she was. As soon as she felt stable enough Jenna had pushed herself to her feet and decided on a direction. It didn't matter all that much. All the hallways looked the same and there wasn't a sign (or any other kind of marking) in sight.

The thought that she might be walking in circles had been creeping in for the last hour or so, but there wasn't more to do than keep walking. There didn't seem to be any way to mark where she'd been, and she was starting to get tired anyway. Well, more tired than she had been. If she hadn't noticed things starting to look different, she might have given up altogether.

The farther she walked, the more the soft whites and browns shifted into standard starship grey. It was unsettling somehow. She decided she didn't like it. When she finally saw a doorway up ahead, the feeling dissipated somewhat, pushed out by a wash of relief. She picked up her pace and practically jumped for the doorway, regretting it as soon as she saw inside.

It was the hold of a cargo ship, but this one was fitted with several rows of chairs, each with it's own set of restraints. There were two adjoining chambers, and while she couldn't quite see into one, the other had a few sets of bunks. There were scanners beside every door, and more cameras than she cared to count. It was a prison ship. She backed away from the door and into the hall, weighing her options.

She could continue down the hall and hope that she found something else of use, or she could work with what she had. She was leaning towards the former option, even though she was tired, and now that she thought about it, getting thirsty. She didn't like the way the room looked. It was much larger than the hallway, and there were even windows, yet it seemed much smaller to her. She was perfectly prepared to pass it by, and had turned to go when she heard a voice.

"Jen? Jen why are you leaving me?"

The woman was sitting sprawled on the floor, every limb in a different direction. One arm was looped around the arm of the chair beside her, the only thing holding her vaguely upright. She was filthy, hair so matted you couldn't tell it had been blonde. Her clothes were in shreds, her skin was grey, and her eyes had that all too familiar dreamhead glaze.

"Jen, you can't leave me with them. Don't you know what they do to us? Jen don't let them take me."

The setting was wrong, but Jenna remembered it clear as anything. She turned back to the hallway and ran before the screaming started.


	5. Cally

She was close. He had to be nearby. Since when did they teach troopers to hide so well? It didn't matter. He didn't deserve to be the only thing alive in miles.

She was going to rip his mask off and march him ten miles through a valley where the poison still hung like smoke. It'd burn the skin off his face, and eat at him until he couldn't walk. Depending on how quickly he talked, he might even get his rifle back.

She heard a scraping sound, metal on metal, and smelled burnt wires. What if he was calling in reinforcements? Did she even care?

The sound was hard to locate with any precision, and she considered just letting loose and hoping she hit him. It wasn't like friendly fire was a issue.

But, she did need enough charge to get back to base safely, back to her maps and plans, and she did so want to catch the man alive.

She followed a soft shuffling about twenty meters before stopping dead. There was a metal hatch in the ground, about a yard across in each direction. It was the sort of thing you might find on a ship, an access hatch, in pristine condition. Either it had miraculously gone untouched, or it had been placed there recently.

After trying and failing to come up with an explanation, she put it towards the back of her mind, and flung the hatch open. The bastard was huddled up in the bottom, and her gun was barely up for a shot when he was already gone. The plasma bolt hit empty flooring, leaving the scent of burnt rubber to curl up through the air.

Cally stared down into the incongruous rip in the world, fighting the drive to pursue, torture, and kill. It took a good few moments of wrestling her instinct back under control to make herself stand back and think. She didn't know what was going on, where it went, who was there. She needed to figure things out first.

This had the potential be far more destructive if she thought it through. She closed it, letting the bolts click back into place, and rolled back on her heels, thinking. She needed a good way to remember where it was.

As she scanned the horizon, looking to for landmarks, the hills shifted and squirmed, settling into

the mountains of Auron.

Wh-


	6. Blake

Who were they? Why were there so many? Why did he

recognize all the faces, know each and every person, remember their laughs and the way they talked and the way they held their faces and sometimes who they were married to or who they weren't allowed to marry, and the things they liked to talk about and the clothes they wore and

it was odd because he didn't know any of them.

There were a lot of them. He had no idea how far he'd walked, but it seemed like hours and he was sure he hadn't seen a duplicate face yet.

They all had holes in them and none of them were moving and there was a lot of blood everywhere.

That one was a very good friend of his.

He didn't know him either.

He kept walking.


	7. Vila

So maybe he was running this time anyway.

His friends... well. His partners always told him it wasn't worth it. As a matter of fact, he always told himself it wasn't worth it. If they had to come get you, something they never failed at, they were bringing a beating.

So maybe he always ran anyway.


	8. Jenna

Sometime while she was running the grey faded back into white and brown, and the screaming died down to an echo in the back of her head. Jenna stumbled to the ground, half with exhaustion, and half just completely done with it all. She had no idea where she was or why she was there and if she was seeing things or if someone was messing with her or both. She was just done.

"Jenna?"

"Oh good. It's you," she muttered, still smashed face-first into the floor.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize-"

She picked her head up,"What are you sorry for? Unless you're the one pulling the strings," She went to set her head down again, but added,"In which case, go to hell." as an afterthought.

"I didn't realize I was tethering you somewhat to reality. I would have tried harder to maintain contact."

"...what?" She screwed her eyes shut and just tried to hold still as the headache returned.

There was a long pause. "You don't recognize me do you?"

She laughed,"Am I supposed to recognize someone wearing someone else's face?"

"That's not-" She sighed,"Anyway when it managed to get rid of me you began to hallucinate like the others."

"There's no one else on this bloody ship." She turned her head on her side so that she could look up at the figure standing over her,"It? What's it?"

"I don't know. The sensor readings are incomprehensible, and Orac can't make any sense of the situation, but there's definitely something..." She shifted uneasily on her feet before finishing the thought,"Keeping us here. I've tried, but I can't escape it. It's hindering my attempts from several angles. I need your help."

"Find Blake. Right."

"Right now we need to find Cally."

"Oh? And how'll she help?"

"She won't. You need to stop her from killing Vila."


	9. Avon

Did he respect Blake? Perhaps. He had somewhat remarkable skills, though, in the end, Avon's were obviously better developed and of more use.

Was he grateful to Blake for the opportunity? Certainly. Without the man's talent for persuading the masses, he'd still be locked up with the common criminals.

Did Blake, begging him from the viewscreen, Raiker's gun to the head of one of his idiotic lemmings, matter enough to give up his foothold?

He switched it off and got back to work.

It was odd. In the old models, life support wasn't usually this well hidden.


End file.
